


True To Life

by Rroselavy



Category: Yugioh
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-01
Updated: 2010-01-01
Packaged: 2017-10-05 14:32:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/42740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rroselavy/pseuds/Rroselavy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If you wished for true love and it came knocking at your door, would you have the courage to answer?</p>
            </blockquote>





	True To Life

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the "Winter Wishes Challenge" 2006, at A Dragon's Lair. The challenge was to have one character make a wish and then take it from there.

Seto Kaiba scowled at the exhibition catalogue in his hands, paging impatiently through the jewel-like images while he waited for his lawyer's phone call. He glanced around the art gallery where each image's real-life counterpart hung on the snow-white walls. A small red dot, indicating the canvas was not for sale, had been affixed to each label describing the title, medium and size. He closed the book impatiently, his hands tracing over the three-inch high letters embossed on the charcoal cover, fingers absently outlining the raised text, which read "Joseph Wheeler."

He had been trying for years to buy one of Wheeler's extraordinarily painted landscapes, and at this point it had become a full-blown obsession, complete with a full-time staff dedicated to acquiring something, anything that Wheeler's hands had created. To date, it had been a stunningly fruitless exercise.

He was still amazed by the intricacy and beauty that flowed from Wheeler's mind and on to each panel; his palette was a riot of colors, subtle ochre undertones of earthen hues layered with verdant greens and yellows over which majestic purples and red-tinged blues reigned. Each epic work evoked within Kaiba a serenity and stillness of the soul that he'd never experienced before, and if history were any indication, he would only be able to appreciate from afar.

His cell rang shrilly in the voluminous space, disturbing the reverent silence.

"What," he answered curtly, brushing an imaginary piece of lint off the lapel of his meticulously tailored suit jacket.

"I'm sorry, Sir," the disembodied voice of his lawyer, Tamagoto, avowed. "I gave his agent your exorbitant offer," he continued disdainfully; the amount of money Seto was willing to spend to own a Wheeler confirming his suspicion that something was seriously wrong with his employer, "but Mr. Wheeler has refused it."

He looked around hopelessly at the treasures that surrounded him, once again completely out of his reach. This was a totally new experience for the handsome CEO. As one of the richest men in the world, he always managed to get his hands on whatever he happened to desire, and yet here he was, once again thwarted in his pressing need to own one of Wheeler's exquisite paintings. As his eyes darted over the canvasses, he dismissed the sudden impulse to snatch one and run out the front doors of the gallery like some common thief. That would make for some very interesting publicity, he grinned humorlessly. He wondered, though, if that desperate action would convey the seriousness of the many offers he'd made to the evasive blond.

"Tamagoto, tell me something. Why is it so difficult to conclude a simple transaction?" He snapped, not wanting to believe what his gut was telling him -- that Wheeler was deliberately refusing his offers simply because they came from ~him~. He couldn't believe that the blond would hold a grudge against him for things that had happened between them back in high school.

"I'm at a loss, Sir." Tamagoto said timidly, knowing he could be signing his own pink slip. "I thought the negotiations were going well, but then suddenly the counter-offer was withdrawn. This time it was ostensibly because the Museum of Modern Art has just offered to buy the entire series." Both men knew that the MoMA's offer for the collection would have been well below what Kaiba had been willing to pay for just one of the immense paintings. And the time before that, it had been another collector who'd outbid him at the last minute, and the time before that, his offer had been passed over and the painting he'd had his eye on was instead donated to the hospital where Wheeler's sister's eyesight had been saved, the brunet thought irritably. The CEO had even tried to possess one as an anonymous bidder, but his bids were rejected; the blond insisted on knowing who his collectors were. "But we did make some headway, Mr. Kaiba, Wheeler has agreed to meet with you to discuss the possibility of you commissioning a painting from him."

At that news, the brunet's spirits lifted somewhat. This was progress, in the past, Wheeler had categorically refused to meet with his representatives; it had been a last-ditch effort to suggest that the two ex-classmates meet at a neutral location to talk. He'd thought for sure the blond would refuse him; they hadn't exactly parted on the best of terms, or on any terms at all, for that matter.

"We can meet at the Church Bar in the TriBeCa Grand." Kaiba stated petulantly. That was as 'neutral' as he was prepared to get--the lobby bar at the hotel he was staying at for the duration of his visit to New York City.

"I'll pass that along, Sir. May I suggest another location if he balks? You do realize that he's never agreed to do a commission-"

"No," he answered sourly. "If he refuses that meeting place, then we'll forget about it." The CEO snarled, defeated.

"If that is what you wish, Sir. I will get back to you with his answer."

"Tamagoto, wait. If he refuses, arrange another place, one more to his liking." He said, grimacing as he felt his advantage skating away. He hated the frustration that welled in his body at the thought that another opportunity to buy a Wheeler would slip through his fingers, hated that that third-rate duelist could finally best him at something. He knew he should just give up, but he brushed that intrusive thought aside. Quitting was never an option. Once he set his mind on a goal, he had to achieve it, or examine every possible avenue towards accomplishing it before admitting defeat. As the tall brunet took one more stroll around the gallery before heading over to Balthazar to meet his brother Mokuba for lunch, he knew that he was not yet ready to cut his losses and move on.

* * *

"Seto, why do you dress like an old man?" Mokuba greeted him disapprovingly.

"You're half an hour late," he replied peevishly. "And at least I don't try to hide the fact that I'm one of the richest men in the world," he added, casting a critical eye at his sibling's frayed jeans, beat up sneakers and threadbare t-shirt advertising some fictitious crab shack.

Mokuba slouched into the seat across from his brother. "It's what's in fashion, and this is one of the trendiest restaurants in New York." he shrugged. "At least I look like I belong here."

Kaiba pinched the bridge of his nose and squinted irritably. "Look, I didn't ask you to lunch to argue over the way you dress. I wanted to find out how you are, to catch up with you." His arctic blue eyes stared into Mokuba's steel grey ones searchingly.

"I'm fine, Seto." Mokuba replied crossly, bending his arms across his chest.

"I was wondering if you had plans to come back home over the summer."

"Home? ~This~ is my home now." Mokuba snapped, rising out of his chair. "I told you that, Niisama!" Seto's heart clenched at the ancient term of endearment. "You can't control me anymore. I'm an adult now, and I don't need you looking out for me!"

"Mokuba," Kaiba said quietly. "Don't make a spectacle of yourself. Sit down ... please?" He grimaced and rubbed his temples.

Mokuba stood staring at his older brother for a few seconds before his expression softened. He slid back into his chair. "I'm sorry Seto, it's just that I love it here. It's so far away from Domino City ... and from the past. I need that. I can't stand living in that stuffy old house with all those memories, and have no idea why you continue to. Besides, all our-my friends are here, too. Why don't you spend the summer here instead?" He offered.

Kaiba stared forlornly at his younger brother, unable to stem the sadness that saturated every fiber of his body. Mokuba had always been the center of his life, his raison d'etre, but little by little his younger brother was slipping away, building his own life in which Kaiba was only a satellite, orbiting around the vortex of New York City, Mokuba's friends, and his graduate studies. He wondered if this was how a mother felt after her children had fled the nest and no longer needed her nurturing and care giving.

"Earth to Seto," Mokuba interrupted his thoughts, and he smiled wanly at his brother and shrugged noncommittally.

"Perhaps I can spend a couple of weeks here in August."

"Cool! I'll rent out a house in the Hamptons," Mokuba said brightly, and he rattled off several of the local hotspots that he would take his big brother to, while Kaiba listened intently, content to hear his brother's animated voice, which reminded him of the young boy Mokuba used to be. "Or maybe you'd prefer Fire Island? I know Joey-"

"Wheeler?" Kaiba snapped out of his reverie.

"Yes, Seto. Joey Wheeler. You remember him? He says Fire Island has a great gay community."

The turn the conversation had taken made Kaiba decidedly uncomfortable. "Look Mokuba, I don't need to hang out with my 'kind.'"

"I didn't mean it that way ... it's just he says it's really cool there, really laid-back. It sounds like a place you'd like-"

"Oh, since when is he the arbiter of my good taste?"

"Why do you still hate him so, Niisama?" There it was again, that term so carelessly dropped, forcing Kaiba's heart to tighten in his chest. "I thought you were interested in collecting some of his work."

"I am," Kaiba sighed. "But, apparently he's uninterested in selling anything to me. And I don't hate him, I just found him, and all your friends for that matter, incredibly annoying."

"But you always singled him out, more than anyone else." Mokuba persisted, to which Kaiba only shrugged. "Maybe you should talk to him about it, buying a painting from him, that is. In person."

"Why? Do you know something you aren't telling me?" Kaiba's icy eyes bore into his brother.

"No," Mokuba shrugged, suddenly unable to meet his brother's steady gaze. "Hey, I'm kinda hungry, can we order something?" He asked, quickly changing the subject, and flagging their waiter.

Even though he sensed Mokuba was keeping something from him, Kaiba let it go. He would find out soon enough, when he met with Wheeler. But it bothered him that Mokuba saw the blond regularly, that he was still part of Wheeler's close-knit circle of friends. He knew that it shouldn't annoy him, that same offering of friendship had been extended to him time and time again throughout his adolescence. Though, at the time, he'd scorned their overtures, and instead had met any approach with hurled insults and sneers, secure in the knowledge that he had the unconditional adoration of his younger brother, and singularly focused on shielding Mokuba from the harsh realities of life. Over the years though, Mokuba had drifted away from him, and he was reminded again of his earlier analogy of being a mother with an empty nest. Though women usually had their husbands, and once the children were out of the house, parents could resume the relationship that had brought them together in the first place. This was where he was at a distinct disadvantage, there was no one waiting for him, no one else who'd put aside their needs along with his to share in the joys and frustrations of raising a family. He'd poured all his energy and focus into parenting and protecting Mokuba, and had repressed his own physical and emotional needs. He'd convinced himself that he didn't need anyone, and only recently had discovered how wrong he was, and how lonely he was.

He thought about the paintings he'd seen earlier at the gallery and the one in particular that he currently coveted. It was a huge canvas titled "The Sea and the Sand." In the foreground, scrubby pines were depicted, their needles shining silvery under a beating sun. Sand dunes rose behind them in the mid-ground before they undulated into the flat shoreline. The sea itself was roiling, foamy waves crashing against the beach in the distance, but the land and sea were dwarfed by the vast sky-shards of azure that pierced huge cumulous thunderheads. Standing in front of the immense display of nature, Kaiba couldn't help but feel inconsequential, as if he were just a grain of sand on that distant beach. But rather than being dismayed by that revelation, he had found a certain amount of solace in it, and as he'd lost himself in the vista before him, he'd felt markedly calm and at ease.

While they waited for the food to arrive, Kaiba asked, "How is Wheeler? Has he changed much?"

"He's still the same in a lot of ways, but he's much happier since leaving Domino."

"I never thought he was unhappy-"

"That's because you never paid attention to him or anyone else. If you had, you would have known how miserable his home life was." Mokuba admonished.

Kaiba snorted. No one's home life could have been worse than his was after Gozaburo had adopted him and his brother. "Whatever," he replied and moved the conversation to a safer topic--Mokuba's graduate studies in international affairs at the New School.

 

* * *

It had been a long, tedious day of meetings and conferences, and Kaiba was content to finally be sitting out on the private rooftop garden adjacent to his hotel suite, sipping an exquisite single malt scotch, while staring out at the twinkling lights of the downtown skyline. As he relaxed there, his thoughts turned once again to that damned painting that had haunted him throughout the day. He had to own it. Forget about a commission, when he met with Joey Wheeler, he would force him to name a price for the work, and finally one of the blond's paintings would be his. The irony wasn't lost on him that Joey Wheeler finally had something that he wanted. And how the blond would enjoy that, he thought cynically. Regarding his past relationship with Wheeler, and Mokuba's continuing one, brought about an intense longing for companionship. His loneliness reached a crescendo, enveloping him in and dulling his senses in the unseasonably warm spring night. He drained his glass and directed his gaze to the heavens above him, marveling at how few stars were bright enough to be visible in the night sky over the city.

He should have been happy-he had everything-more money than he could possibly spend in this lifetime, his health, and the love of his brother, despite their growing distance. But what he craved now in life was companionship. Not the kind he could buy at the most exclusive clubs in the world, the genuine kind, the foundation of life itself. As he gazed at the brightest star in the firmament, he thought to himself, 'I wish there was someone who loved me, who just wanted to be with me.' For a fleeting second, he felt as if he were floating outside of his body looking down on himself alone on the rooftop terrace, and then just as quickly, that feeling dissipated. Suddenly feeling bone-tired, he went back into his posh hotel room, washed up, brushed his teeth, undressed and crawled in between the sumptuous sheets. Before he drifted off to sleep, he wondered idly if tomorrow would be the day that he would meet up with Joey Wheeler, and as he slipped into sleep, he thought that then he and his lawyer would finally put an end to the blond's harassment.

***

He was awakened from deep slumber by the strident ring of his cell phone, and as he became conscious, he was aware of an acute throbbing in his temples that sympathetically punctuated each alert. He really needed to lay off the scotch; it gave him wicked hangovers.

"What," he rasped into the mouthpiece, alarmed when he glanced at the digital clock on the nightstand, its economical numerals alerting him that he'd overslept.

"Good morning Mr. Kaiba," his lawyer said brightly, evoking stabbing pains behind the brunet's eyes. "I have good news, Mr. Wheeler has agreed to your terms. He will meet with you at the hotel bar tonight at six."

"Good," he managed, barely registering that he might finally be within reach of his goal to get the blond to stop painting pictures of his likeness. An image flashed in his mind then, one of huge canvases done in Wheeler's painterly style gracing the walls of the gallery he'd visited the day before; only the subject matter of the works were landscapes and seascapes, not the omnipresent Seto Kaiba visage that he knew was painted onto every single canvas that Wheeler had ever touched. He shook his head, earning a nausea-inducing wave of dizziness. He must have dreamt those other images before he was awakened.

"But there's one thing, Sir. He wants to meet you alone."

"No lawyer for him?"

"No, and none for you, I'm afraid."

"What kind of bullshit is that!?!"

"Sir, he says he believes that you both can come to a suitable arrangement without any 'stuffed shirts' involved. His words, not mine."

The CEO groaned inwardly. The last thing he wanted to do was meet alone with the psychotic blond who was so obviously obsessed with him. All of a sudden he felt disoriented by a memory that had the situation completely reversed ... one in which the circumstances were that he'd been pursuing the blond ... to ~buy~ a painting. "At least it will be in public." Kaiba replied, masking his confusion, but somehow the meeting place that he'd suggested, the Church Bar in the lobby of the TriBeCa Grand, didn't make him feel any more comfortable. "Six o'clock it is then." He felt his heartbeat quicken in anticipation of finally coming face to face with his blond rival after six years.

"Sir, I'll drop by with the papers ... in case you manage to get him to agree to signing them."

"Very well, leave them at the front desk, I'm already late for my first meeting." He snapped his phone closed irritably, wondering what the hell was wrong with him. As if he would pursue the blond for anything. No, he'd spent the past few years actively ducking Joey Wheeler, and had the stacks of pink 'While You Were Out' slips that his secretary had dutifully filled out each time the blond had called Kaiba at the office and he'd informed her to take a message, to prove it. They'd all been carefully filed away as evidence in the case that Tamagoto had insisted on building against the blond, should his behavior ever become erratic or threatening.

After Kaiba let his breakfast appointment know that he was going to be delayed, he found the catalogue he'd bought at the gallery the day before-as more evidence-and flipped it open to a random page, half expecting to see one of the gorgeous images from the dream he'd had. Instead he was confronted with a portrait of himself, blue eyes glittering like sapphires as they peeked out from under his trademark chestnut bangs. He slammed the book closed forcefully, breathing out a scornful "Baka!" If only Wheeler had kept his mouth shut, all this would have eventually just gone away.

He'd resolved himself to ignore the fact that the blond was churning out canvas after canvas of his image and making a fortune at it as the art world's latest darling. For years Wheeler had denied that his singular subject was anyone that he knew, obtusely refusing to acknowledge that his character resembled any living person; and because of his heavy impasto technique and compositions that partially obscured the subject's face, it had been difficult to argue otherwise. But then recently he'd been quoted during an interview with an obscure online art 'zine where he had identified his brunet muse as the one and only Seto Kaiba. When the press had gotten wind of the confession, they'd had a field day. Kaiba shuddered involuntarily as he thought about the countless interviews he'd had to suffer through since, where he'd been grilled about his relationship to the blond. It seemed that the more he protested, the more it encouraged the media to probe him further.

But now it was within his grasp to finally get the blond to sell him a painting ... no he didn't want to ~buy~ a painting from the blond he corrected himself, he wanted Joey to stop painting ~him~. At this point, the roomfuls of Kaibas were getting more than a little creepy and bordered on stalker-like behavior. And the blond had had the nerve to begin painting some nudes of him.

He continued to get ready for the day, his mind still haunted by the dream he'd had. It had been so realistic and unlike most dreams he was able to remember upon awakening in which he generally experienced strange time shifts and visual non-sequiturs. As he thought about it, he found he could piece the dream together in a rather straightforward narrative that paralleled the day he'd had, albeit with entirely different outcomes. He found he had two memories of his lunch with Mokuba, one in which they'd made plans to summer in the Hamptons, and the other, a more prickly one, where he was feeling lost and sorry for himself at his brother's newfound independence. It vexed him, and as if to prove the dream's duplicity, he rummaged through his coat pockets to find the brochure of the house out in the Hamptons that Mokuba had insisted they purchase to enjoy extended summer vacations at when the elder Kaiba was visiting New York.

He found the glossy brochure that his brother had handed to him over lunch, and immediately the hair at the nape of his neck stood on end; the image that graced the cover was a photograph that appeared to be identical to the painting he'd dreamed about. The caption was titled, "An endless horizon of sea and sand." He shook his head irritably, as the pieces he was puzzling fell together. His dream of the painting had been fabricated out of the events of the day before. With that mystery solved, he was able to push the rest of the disturbing incidents of his dream out of his mind and finish getting ready for his day.

As he was driven through the canyons of midtown Manhattan to his breakfast appointment at Norma's in the Parker-Meridien, Kaiba allowed his mind to drift back to the last time he'd seen Joey Wheeler. He was not looking forward to the old-style power breakfast he knew he was being driven to, and he gazed sullenly out of the tinted glass of the limousine's window, remembering the details of that day.

He'd gone to the Kami Game Shop for Yugi's high school graduation party. Mokuba had pestered him for days on end, and in order to placate his brother, Kaiba had agreed to drop in just for a few minutes. In reality, he'd been looking forward to seeing Wheeler, because despite all outward appearances, and the fact that he treated the blond duelist poorly, he was hopelessly attracted to him. The party had been tolerable, most likely due to Kaiba realizing that he would no longer be running into the Yugi tachi on a daily basis, but he couldn't totally quell the vague sense of loss he felt from that same sentiment. Although his days beyond high school were predetermined by his position at Kaiba Corp, the imminent change to his daily regimen was unsettling nonetheless.

Before he knew it, hours had passed, spent in conversations he'd never imagined he would hold with his former nemesis and friends, particularly Joey, with whom his extended conversation had been surprisingly pleasant and coherent, that is until the blond began to drink in earnest. At that point things began to get exceedingly weird, and the evening ended with Joey making a terrifically clumsy pass at the brunet, and in a moment of weakness, Kaiba allowing himself to be drawn into a steamy embrace.

To this day, Kaiba lamented his harsh reaction, borne from shock and disbelief that his attraction to Joey was actually reciprocated, but he knew he couldn't very well go back and change the past. Though he couldn't help feeling that if he'd reacted in a much more responsible and considerate way, things would have turned out far different. As it was, though, he hadn't let the blond down easily.

Looking back, he wondered why he'd been so ... frightened ... by Joey's overtures. It wasn't as if he'd never considered getting together with the blond, he'd even made some passing remarks that could have been construed as double entendres, if the other boy had been listening closely. Perhaps he'd never given Joey enough credit in being able to pick up on his subtle hints. But faced with an aggressively drunken Wheeler pressing himself against him, Kaiba had panicked; he'd lashed out at Joey, and then bolted. The next morning, he'd prayed that Wheeler had been too drunk to recall any of the events of the prior evening. For him though, they'd been indelibly etched into his memory, culminating with the electrifying heated kiss and the hot groping he'd shared with Joey before making his escape.

He felt a slight tightening in his groin at the memory, but then a cold chill washed over him. He remembered then that he hadn't gone to that party, he'd been stubborn to the end, and that evening had concluded in one of the worst fights he'd ever had with his younger brother, with Mokuba finally spitting out at him, "You deserve to end up old and alone, Seto!" Years later, the caustic remark still caused his stomach to lurch, but yet ... that kiss he'd shared with Joey, he knew in his soul that it had been real; it had ruined him for every intimate relationship that had followed. No one had been able ignite such a passion in him since.

What was happening to him? He broke out in a cold sweat, his skin feeling clammy underneath the silk shirt he was wearing. It was as if he'd become unable to discern which of his memories were real, and which had been dreams. Something was wrong, and he was gripped with terror that whatever it was might be a harbinger to further deterioration of his cognitive abilities. God, what would happen to Mokuba? He knew his younger sibling was well equipped to take care of himself, but he despaired at the thought of leaving him alone in the world. Before he realized it, he'd dialed Mokuba's cell phone number.

"Mokuba," he managed. He hated how strained his voice sounded and knew his brother would instantly be alarmed.

"Seto, what's the matter?" Mokuba's concern was evident through the tiny earpiece.

"I don't know," he gasped, suddenly finding it near impossible to breathe. "I-" His voice trailed off.

"Get to a hospital!" He heard the panic rising in Mokuba's voice and suddenly felt ashamed and embarrassed for upsetting him so.

"I'm sorry Mokuba," he said through clenched teeth, "I was wrong to call you. I'm okay." He had to be.

"Please, Niisama! I'll meet you there," Mokuba pleaded. Kaiba was hit with another series of memories from the day before, of Mokuba calling him that, and how he'd been so grateful to hear that childhood nickname from his brother's lips. But he knew that Mokuba had never stopped calling him that.

"Where?" Kaiba asked, momentarily losing the thread of their conversation. More powerful memories were invading his thoughts-no, not memories-hallucinations. He and Tamagoto arguing over his insistence to offer Wheeler a ridiculous amount of money for a painting; him telling Wheeler that they could never be friends, that the blond wasn't worth expending one iota of his precious time on; Wheeler hurling insults at him the last time they'd been in the same room together; at Mokuba's graduation. Things were spiraling out of control. He imagined the nerves in his brain had lost their capacity to fire in the correct order and the random chaos that had ensued was wreaking havoc on his memories. Perhaps he'd had a stroke, he mused, and suddenly he became calm; he'd found a plausible answer to his dilemma.

"Seto, SETO!" Mokuba's voice was near hysterical. "Niisama, are you there!?!"

"Yes," he said, as the tight vise that had gripped his chest loosened a bit.

"Go to New York-Presbyterian. NOW! I'll meet you there. SETO answer ME!"

"Okay," he said docilely. He was feeling somewhat better now that he had a new purpose. He had to find out what was wrong with his brain.

He hung up the phone and pressed the intercom to address the driver. "There's been a change of plans. I need you to take me to New York Presbyterian."

"Yes, sir," the driver replied, his professional demeanor unruffled by the change in destinations.

By the time Mokuba had arrived at the hospital, he'd been much calmer than when Kaiba had hung up on him. The CEO was proud of his brother's ability to pull himself together, and grateful that he'd taken charge; efficiently canceling all of Kaiba's appointments for the day and the next morning, and winning assurances from the medical center's public relations department head that any details of Kaiba's admittance would not be released to the media until it was vetted by Kaiba Corp's PR department. Mokuba had then insisted on waiting for him, and with him, through all the procedures and then their results, listening sympathetically, while Kaiba described in halting terms what was happening in his mind.

"It's going to be okay, Seto. We'll get to the bottom of this." He stated confidently. Once again, Kaiba was thankful to have his brother steadfast by his side.

Once it had been recognized that the one and only Seto Kaiba had been admitted for a battery of tests, he'd been given VIP treatment at the renowned medical center, all the while being poked and prodded by a cadre of top specialists in neurology, physiology and, when nothing physical could be found for his complaints, psychiatry. After submitting himself to a host of invasive and non-invasive procedures-a PET scan, CT scan, fMRI, carotid artery scans, and an electroencephalogram, all of which when analyzed were found to be normal, Kaiba found himself lying on a comfortable couch allowing an analyst to probe his psyche. But the psychiatrist had come up with nothing more compelling for his symptoms than it could be they were manifestations of the enormous amount of daily stress that the brunet put himself through.

 

It had been an exceedingly grueling day for the CEO. He was utterly exhausted by the time he had made it back to the TriBeCa Grand and he was looking forward only to ordering a light dinner and then climbing into bed and forgetting about the entire ordeal as well as the dual memories that were intent on sabotaging his waking hours. He strode through the lobby purposefully, hands in his pockets, the fingers of one wrapped around the two pill prescriptions the psychiatrist had prescribed for him-Paxil for the generalized anxiety he was experiencing, and Xanax for when it welled to an acute level at which he found it difficult to function. He reached the elevators and was poised to press the up button when he heard someone call out his name.

"Hey Kaiba!" He turned toward the vaguely familiar Brooklyn accent and recognized that it belonged to Joey Wheeler. Kaiba was filled with a sense of dread, in all the excitement of the day, he had completely forgotten about their meeting.

***

"Kaiba?" He turned around and watched as Joey rose from the chair and started toward him. The blond looked good. The years had been kind to him, his angular adolescent body had filled out slightly, but not in an unpleasant way. His face had a more rugged quality to it, Kaiba observed; all traces of adolescent baby fat had been replaced by smooth masculine planes. Dressed in a simple black turtleneck that skimmed his torso and a pair of slim-fitting blue jeans, Wheeler was far more attractive than the brunet remembered. Damn his hormones, Kaiba ruminated beleagueredly as he took in the way Joey's tousled blond hair glistened softly under the track lighting of the lobby. That was all it had been that night too, a thought intruded, but Kaiba knew immediately that he'd been lying to himself all these years.

"Ya look like shit!' Joey blurted honestly, then catching himself, he asked, "Are you okay Kaiba? D'ya wanna do this some other time?"

Kaiba took a deep breath, considering Joey's questions. The blond was giving him an out, and he did have the perfect excuse, his day had been nothing short of hell on earth. And yet, as his eyes roved appreciatively over the other man, his body responding to the view, he felt immensely better-relieved, almost. Suddenly the idea of passing some time with Wheeler didn't seem so unpalatable. At least it might be possible to talk some sense into the blond.

"Hello Wh-Joey," he greeted, extending his hand. "No, now is fine. I'm flying back to Japan tomorrow." He added as Joey clasped his outstretched hand and then pulled the brunet into an awkward embrace. Kaiba reminded himself that Joey always was a touchy-feely kind of guy, and relaxed his stiffened body.

"Ya sure?" Joey said, pushing him away and gazing into his eyes with concern. "You look ... pale."

"Yes, I'm fine. It's just been a long day." Kaiba lied. "Can I buy you a drink?" He asked, taking Joey's elbow and steering him toward the bar.

"Yeah, um, sure. Just a club soda though."

"Oh, you're driving?"

"No, but we both know what happened the last time we were together and I got drunk." Images and sensations of Joey's hot tongue pushing its way past the barrier of his lips, while the blond's roughened hands ran rampant over his body caused Kaiba's breath to catch for a moment. He immediately felt his body's reaction to the memory; he was rock hard within seconds.

"Let's not talk about the past," he said in a strained voice, sitting down at a stool in front of the polished bar, hoping to stem a flood of unwanted, mixed-up memories. He felt more nervous than he should have, and for a moment, reconsidered accepting Joey's offer to reschedule. But one glance over at the blond, now in profile, stilled that thought. Why didn't he remember Joey being so gorgeous? But he did remember-more unwanted memories filtered through-the semester of history in his senior year that he spent pining for the blond from the desk behind him, free to watch every move Joey made from his unseen vantage point, and the surreptitious ogling he'd engaged in during phys. Ed.

He shook his head as if to dispel the unbidden memories, fished for a bill from his wallet and laid $100 on the bar. Joey's eyes widened and then he grinned. "I can see where this is heading," he remarked laconically.

"We don't have to spend it all." Kaiba said tartly, and then turned to the approaching bartender. "Club soda and a Macallan, straight up." Might as well stick with the hair of the dog, he thought.

"Oh, but where's the fun in that?" Joey quipped.

"Are you reconsidering your club soda, Wheeler?"

"Maybe I will, after we get something to eat."

"I didn't know I was buying you dinner too," Kaiba replied archly.

"I don't expect you to. I'm buying. I ~am~ a man of means now, after all." The blond boasted, smiling broadly.

The brunet smiled at the opening Joey had presented. "You do realize that your new-found wealth has been built by you pimping my image?" He retorted, quite pleased with himself, and hoping to wipe that goofy grin off the blond's face. But he tossed back the scotch he'd ordered in one gulp, though, suddenly feeling very petty, while he waited for Joey's inevitable explosion. In the silence that ensued, he glanced over to see Joey staring thoughtfully into his drink. "Well?" Kaiba prodded impatiently.

"I'm sorry, man. I was looking at the way the light reflected off of my drink," Joey motioned with his head. Kaiba followed his gaze, momentarily fascinated by the violet hues skating over the surface of the clear liquid and illuminating the effervescent bubbles that rose lazily when Joey rotated the glass. "I can't help where the muses take me," Joey said softly, shrugging his shoulders neutrally.

"It's become more than an annoyance." Kaiba replied blandly. "It needs to stop, Joey."

Joey turned to him, and Kaiba could see his eyes narrowed in anger. But when he spoke, his voice was even and business-like. "I can't help it. When I pick up my brush, it's what wants to be painted. Besides, I've already spoken to my lawyer. You're a public figure, and as long as I'm not doing anything to harm your image, it's okay."

"Wheeler-" Kaiba began to speak, only to have his words cut off by the blond's hand on his sleeve.

"And I know for a fact that it's helped your numbers" Joey continued. "Since I publicly acknowledged that you were my subject, the value of Kaiba Corp's stock has seen a five percent increase. You haven't had any new releases or tie-ins that would account for that either."

"I see you've done your homework," Kaiba said warily, acutely aware of the weight of the blond's hand on his arm.

Joey grinned. "Yep, I figured once I let it slip that you were my subject, the shit was gonna hit the fan."

The bartender strolled by and Kaiba tipped his head, indicating he wanted another drink. He was beginning to feel the effects of the first and it wasn't unpleasant, given the day he'd had. "Hey can ya bring us a bar menu?" Joey asked, adding, "I think I need ta get some food into this guy."

"I don't need a mother," Kaiba bristled.

"Sor-ry," Joey replied in a tone that was anything but.

"So I don't get any say in this matter?" Kaiba asked, sounding more petulant than he wanted to. Joey studied one of the menus the bartender had dropped off.

"Hmm. I was hoping fah something more substantial," he mumbled to himself before turning back to the brunet. "You know what you want?"

Kaiba gave a cursory glance to the menu and ordered the spring rolls from the waiting bartender.

"I'll have those too, and can you bring us a couple of orders of shumai, and the negimaki looks good, too. And I'll have a sake." Joey added.

"I see you've abandoned your tea-totaling for the evening." Kaiba noted.

"Oh that, it helps with digestion." Joey dismissed.

"Are you going to answer my question?" Kaiba prodded.

"What kind of say would you like? You act as if I have one. I already told you that I can't help it."

"Why don't you find another subject?" Kaiba persisted, this time taking a small sip of the amber fluid, deliberately forcing himself to slow down.

"Why's it such a problem fah you?" Joey countered. "You should be flattered."

"Flattered?" Kaiba stammered in disbelief. "Flattered, why? Because I know that you are thinking about me constantly?" He stopped himself then, because he'd never considered that. Before he could stop himself he asked, "Are you doing this because of that night?"

"I thought you said you didn't want to talk about the past," Joey replied sharply, looking away from the brunet. Both men nursed their drinks in silence for a while. Kaiba drained his glass, and ordered another. "I think you should slow down there," Joey cautioned.

"I already told you I don't need a mother." Kaiba snarled, his tongue feeling clumsy and thick in his mouth.

"It's your funeral," Joey replied, pushing aside his drink as the bartender laid their order down in front of them.

They ate in silence for a while, Kaiba once again trying to recall the hazy details of the night in question, but it kept getting mixed up with the other memory. It was hopeless. He turned to the blond, "Can you tell me what happened that night?"

"You don't remember?" Joey asked between bites. " Ya gotta be shittin' me. I was the one who was drunk."

"Humor me."

"What's to tell? I laid my heart on the line and got my head handed to me."

Kaiba knitted his brow. "I don't recall that at all." He said, deciding that being deliberately vague about what he did recall would be the best tactic for the moment. Joey stared at him open-mouthed. "What?" Kaiba asked defensively.

"Why did you ask to meet with me?" Joey changed the subject, his eyes narrowing again, and Kaiba could see he was upset.

"I told you, I want you to stop painting all those pictures of me."

"So then why do you need to know about that night?"

"Because-"

"Forget it. I don't wanna talk about it."

"Joey, please-"

"The most humiliating night of my life, and you don't even remember? That's cold, even fah you," the blond spat bitterly.

Wordlessly, Kaiba swallowed the entire drink the bartender had set in front of him.

"Shit, Kaiba. What the fuck's the matter with you?" Joey hissed. "You're feeding one helluva hangover. Ya got a problem with flying?" He asked, referring to Kaiba's comment that he was heading home the next day.

"No, actually it's making things better." The brunet slurred slightly. And it was. The conflicting memories didn't nearly seem so upsetting with a good buzz on, and the blond was looking even more luscious.

"Yeah, well, I'm all too familiar with that." Joey scowled, rising off the stool. "I think I'd better go." He reached into his pocket for his wallet.

"No, Joey. Don't. Please, stay?" He grabbed the blond's arm. "I'll stop drinking." He offered.

Reluctantly, Joey sat back down and called the bartender over. "Get my friend a pot of tea."

"I told you-"

"Yeah, yeah. I know I'm not your mother. I'm not even your friend, am I?"

Kaiba considered Joey's question for a moment. The heat from the drinks radiating from his stomach was both numbing and comforting. Then, ignoring the blond's inquiry, he persisted. "Please tell me what I did that night, you see, I have another memory, one where I didn't even go to the party." He raised his eyes and met Wheeler's gaze, imploringly, "I need to know what happened."

Joey eyed him guardedly for a minute before continuing slowly. "You did come to the party. When you got there, ya said you were only droppin' in for a few minutes. But you stayed. It took me most of the night to get the courage up to talk with ya, but when I did, it was okay. We were getting along." He stopped and looked away before continuing. "I always liked you. Ya know, ~liked~. I was attracted to you, but you'd made it clear on numerous occasions that I wasn't good enough in your eyes ta even lick your boots. So I started drinking, and when I was drinking, I got the impression that maybe you did like me, maybe all your trash talk was just a charade on your part. I thought ya'd dropped some hints here and there, but now that we were done with school ... well it just got to me that it could be my last chance ta tell you, and you ... you were looking so fucking ... beautiful. So I kissed you." Again Kaiba remembered the moment, Joey's tongue gliding over his lower lip, pressing wantonly against it until he allowed the blond entrance into his mouth. How right it had felt at that moment as the blood rushed to his groin and he imagined the most deliciously wicked things that they could do to each other, the way Joey's hands needfully explored his body only fueling his lustful thoughts. He'd wanted it. He'd refused to believe it then, but Kaiba knew it now, and what was more, he knew that he still wanted the blond. "You seemed really into it. I didn't know what I was doin', hell, we were just kids, right? But I liked what was happening." Joey snorted. "Then, you shut off. You pushed me off of you, and started to walk away. I grabbed you, I said 'Kaiba wait! I need to tell you something, I think I love you!' And you just looked at me with that haughty stare of yours and said, 'Get over it, Mutt. This meant nothing.' I was crushed."

Kaiba didn't know how to react. He remembered the kiss, their make-out session, but not the insult. He remembered being overwhelmed with the intensity of their physicality. Buthe also remembered not going to the party and fighting with Mokuba about it. He suddenly felt completely sober. "Perhaps you were mistaken about what I said?"

"I was drunk, not an idiot, despite popular opinion. I remember it quite clearly, Kaiba. And then, to top it off, for six years you haven't so much acknowledged my existence except through your god-damned lawyer."

Kaiba shook his head. "No, I was the idiot. I was frightened." He confessed.

"For six years?" Joey asked incredulously. "Not that you owed me anything, but an explanation would have been nice."

That's where things get hazy, Kaiba thought to himself, miserably. He reached into his pocket to rub the prescription bottles like a talisman. Because until he woken up earlier that day, he could swear that he'd never even thought about the blond in a sexual way. But that belief extended from the other memories, the ones that were beginning to seem less and less like the true ones as the day progressed.

"I don't expect you to believe me, but until I woke up this morning," he shrugged his shoulders dejectedly, "Hell, I can't even make heads or tails of what I'm about to say-until I woke up this morning, I had no recollection of any of what you're telling me-the kiss, the attraction, certainly not my cruel response." He let it go there, knowing he would be at a loss trying to explain any of the other memories.

Joey sighed deeply, and Kaiba waited for the blond to lay into him. Instead, he replied downheartedly, "It's really hard for me to believe that it meant so little to you." When the brunet remained silent, he asked tentatively, "But you remember now?" Kaiba nodded. "So then can you understand why I can't stop?"

"Painting my picture?" He asked, bewildered that the blond had just simply internalized his statement, without passing judgment on his questionable sanity.

"Yes," Joey said resignedly. When Kaiba didn't respond, he elaborated. "It was the only way I could get your attention. You wouldn't return my phone calls; you had my emails bounced back, God only knows how many of my letters you tossed in the garbage. I needed to talk to you, and it just all started to come out in my work. But I never guessed it was because you'd forgotten." He added sadly.

"Joey, I don't know what to say." It bothered Kaiba to know that his actions or inactions-whether they were real or imagined, he still wasn't sure, but it couldn't be possible that they were sharing the same delusions and hallucinations, he reminded himself-had hurt the blond. "I'm sorry, very sorry. I never meant to hurt you." Even as the words slipped out, he questioned himself, probing his mind and his heart; that what he was saying, was the truth. It was, he'd never wanted to hurt Joey. He'd only said those awful words because he'd been frightened half to death by his feelings.

"S'okay." The blond shrugged. "You're a busy man."

"No, it isn't okay. Joey, you need to believe me. I never meant to hurt you." He repeated as he placed his hand on the back of the blond's neck. "Do you think you could forgive me?"

"I'd like to. There was just so much I wanted to say to you back then ..."

"Well," Kaiba said, smiling for the first time. "I'm here now. What is it that you had to say?" He saw Joey swallow hard.

The blond shrugged. "Honestly, I don't know anymore."

"You're kidding." Kaiba snorted. "You have my undivided attention, Wheeler. What is it that you wanted to say to me?" He was beginning to feel like himself again for the first time since he'd been awakened by his lawyer. He thought about retrieving the papers he'd never collected from the front desk, but he didn't want to ruin the moment. By letting go of the past, Joey had unwittingly given him a gift. Perhaps it would be easier for him to forget, as well.

"Do you know why you're always alone in the paintings?" Joey asked suddenly.

"I never really gave it much thought."

"Well, you aren't really alone. I'm staring at you, from outside the frame."

Kaiba knit his brow. "Do you realize how ... creepy that is?"

"You think I don't know that? Look the fact of the matter is, I never stopped wanting you," Joey confessed and then added angrily. "Fine, you want me to stop painting you, Kaiba, then let's finish what we started back then. Then maybe I could be done with you."

"Now, I know you must be joking, Wheeler." Kaiba said levelly, belying his quickening heartbeat. But the thought of Joey touching him like that again sent thrilling little shivers down his spine. Maybe that wasn't such a bad idea, he thought to himself. No, that was insane ... but then after everything that had happened, maybe that was the most rational thought he'd had all day. He had to admit sleeping with the blond wouldn't be the worst mistake he'd ever made, even if it didn't mean that Joey would stop painting those blasted pictures. But that was beside the point. Joey was right, they did have unfinished business. Maybe that was what these conflicting memories were all about. It wasn't just stress in general, like the psychiatrist had posited-perhaps the way he'd left things back at that party, and the fallout that had happened over the years since-was the reason he was having all these memory ... disturbances. It didn't seem so far-fetched anymore. And maybe if the screwed each other, they'd both get the other out of their systems.

"Still scared?" Joey challenged, reading Kaiba's hesitation as indecision. They stared at each other for a few moments before Kaiba broke the gaze. He fished another bill out of his wallet and laid it on the bar. Scared indeed, he snorted, his throbbing groin telling him otherwise.

"We're done here. Let's go," he said, grabbing the blond by his arm.

Joey shook loose from his grasp. "Where are we going?"

"To my room. We have some unfinished business." He smiled brazenly.

***

Joey trailed him to the elevators, and they waited in a guarded silence for one to show up. As they entered a newly arrived car they were joined by another guest, a middle-aged woman who managed to slip in before the doors closed. The silence continued, and Kaiba began to have serious doubts about bringing the blond up to his room. What was he thinking, he wondered as the elevator stopped on a low floor and the other passenger got off. He didn't have time to consider his question, because before the doors had closed, Joey had grabbed him into an embrace. Threading his fingers through Kaiba's silken tresses, Joey captured him in a needful kiss, lips descending on his, demanding entrance to his mouth and then dominating the brunet completely. Joey's mouth tasted both sweet and salty; the product of soy and sake, and Kaiba found it just as intoxicating as the scotch that he'd been drinking earlier had been.

He melted against the blond, his arms encircling Joey's waist, hands lifting the soft material of the turtleneck and exploring the smooth heated skin underneath. He breathed in deeply, and recognized a surprisingly erotic undertone of oil paint and turpentine. He would never have considered the aroma arousing before, but the combination of the blond's talented tongue ravishing his mouth and his equally artful fingers dancing across his body in a teasing manner, pushed all reservations about what they were about to do out of Kaiba's mind. This felt damned good, and there was no way that he was going to put a halt on it.

The bell rang, announcing the penthouse, and they separated reluctantly, Joey once again allowing Kaiba to take the lead. As soon as he'd closed the door behind the blond, Kaiba had him pinned against it. "Now where were we?" He murmured, and then attacked the blond with equal abandon. When they both came up for air, Joey pushed him aside roughly.

"Hold on a minute," he gasped, wide-eyed. "Are you sure about this?" Kaiba answered the blond by nuzzling against his throat, once again breathing in the pungent undertones of turpentine. Joey gripped the brunet forcefully by his arms. "Kaiba, I mean it. Don't be playing me," he warned. "I know ya had a bit ta drink-"

"For chrissakes Joey! I'm not the same boy I was in high school," he hissed, stepping back to regard the blond in the fading light of the room, illuminated by the soft orange hues of the dying sunset. "But if you want to leave, go. Now." He stared impassively at the blond, despite the tightness that gripped his chest and told him that that was the last thing he wanted Joey to do.

Joey shook his head slowly. "I know what I want, Kaiba." He said, advancing on the brunet predatorily. "And I know what I don't want; a repeat of the last time. I don't want you to regret this."

Kaiba pulled Joey close and ran his hands along the blond's face, thumbs tracing his cheekbones. His fingers caressing tousled blond locks. "I want you, Wheeler. I'm more certain of this than I've been of anything all day." He kissed him hard then, as if to prove the veracity of his statement. At first Joey was stiff and unyielding, but gradually, Kaiba felt his position shift, until he was gripping the brunet as if he were a lifeline.

"You're leaving tomorrow," Joey whispered hoarsely, his forehead pressed into the hollow of Kaiba's throat, as he worked at the buttons of the brunet's silk shirt.

"Yes, I am. Will you stay with me tonight?" He asked and then groaned; the blood rushing to his groin as Joey's supple lips surrounded an exposed nipple. He fisted Joey's hair as the blond simultaneously bit down on it and laved it gently with his tongue. Joey's hands skimmed his belly, sending shivers down the brunet's spine, and his cock twitched in anticipation when he felt deft fingertips loosening his shirttails from his waistband and then being set to work on his fly.

Joey was moving fast. He pushed Kaiba towards the bed, pulling down his pants and boxers as the brunet fell into a sitting position. Kaiba saw that Joey's eyes were half-closed and unfocused with lust, and it sent a thrill through his body when those amber eyes raked over his semi-naked form. "Take your clothes off," the blond ordered huskily, and Kaiba would have protested being ordered about like a common whore if Joey hadn't at that moment chosen to remove his own shirt with catlike-grace. The brunet felt his mouth go dry at the view when Wheeler bent over to untie the laces of the rubber-soled boots he was wearing; his firm ass pressed against tight denim sent new shockwaves through Kaiba's body. He wasted no time divesting himself of his shoes and socks, his pants, boxers and shirt hastily following. He watched hungrily as Joey folded his clothes neatly over the back of a chair before coming back toward the bed.

"Lotion's in the bathroom," Kaiba motioned with his head, unable to remove his eyes from Joey's Adonis-like body. His smooth chest boasted well-defined pectoral muscles upon which dusky nipples protruded. His abdomen was taut and muscular, but not overworked, and slimmed pleasingly through the hips to the v of his crotch at which an impressive erection had grown.

He eyed the shaft lustfully, a blush tingeing his cheeks when Joey growled playfully, "Like what ya see?"

Kaiba licked his lips and leaned back on his arms, his head lolling lazily, his own well-toned body and equally magnificent cock displayed prominently for the blond. He arched a brow and smirked, "It'll do."

"Hmff." Joey snorted, stalking in the direction Kaiba had indicated, allowing the brunet an exceedingly generous view of his perfectly shaped ass.

Alone again briefly, he began to have second thoughts, but his lips tingled from Joey's kisses. They were better than the memory, but then it hit him, which memory was right, the one that he didn't have before he'd woken up that morning, or the one that no longer seemed true, but he remembered from the past. He listened to Joey rummage through the toiletries in his bathroom, a cold malaise washing over him, and by the time Joey returned from the bathroom triumphantly displaying the lotion, Kaiba had wrapped himself in a chenille throw and curled up on the bed, his back to the bathroom door. He stared out of the floor-to-ceiling windows at the downtown panorama twinkling in the dusk, shivering miserably.

"Uh-oh, what's wrong?" Joey asked, not bothering to hide the annoyance that crept into his voice.

The memories were crashing over Kaiba like waves, mysterious tendrils tangling together until he didn't know which were real and which were the fabrications of his mind.

"I don't know," he barely whispered. He was terribly frightened; he'd submitted to all those tests, and the specialists could find nothing the matter with him. But he knew something was certainly wrong, there was no way that what he was experiencing was normal.

"I should go," Joey said abruptly, and he moved to collect his clothes.

"No! Please stay! I-I don't want to be alone!" Kaiba cried out, and then listened to the blond's steady breathing, the only sound in the silent room. He was grateful for it-it meant that Joey was considering his plea-but horrified by his own neediness.

He felt the mattress depress as Joey sat on the edge of the bed. "D'ya wanna talk about it?"

Talk about what, Kaiba thought bitterly to himself-the cacophony of memories that were assaulting him? That would go over well. "No, but can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Will you hold me?" He heard the lotion clatter onto the nightstand and then felt the mattress dip further. An arm snaked under his pillow and the other wrapped around him as Joey molded his body against him. "Under the covers?" Joey complied meekly, lifting the coverlet, and then once again taking up residence, curved around Kaiba's body.

"Like this?" He whispered into Kaiba's ear.

"Mmm hmm," the brunet shivered, and Joey hugged him tighter as if to will warmth into his trembling body.

The room gradually darkened as dusk became night and Kaiba drifted drowsily towards sleep, greatly comforted by Joey's presence, at peace inside the blond's strong arms. He remembered how lonely he'd felt the night before when he'd crawled into this bed, how he'd wished for someone to love him, and here Joey was, simply offering him solace, and despite his unambiguous hard-on pressing against the brunet's ass, patiently laying next to him. Just as he'd wished for, the thought flashed suddenly into his mind, and his eyes flew open.

Joey must have felt his body stiffen, because he squeezed Kaiba tighter, and whispered, "It's okay, I'm here and I ain't going anywhere." And deep in his soul Kaiba knew that it was true, and it didn't matter which past was correct and which was a figment of his imagination, because here was Joey, heated flesh and blood, lying with him in his bed just because he asked him to.

"Would you hate me if we didn't make love?"

"Don't be an idiot!" Joey admonished. "Do you think that's all I came up here for, just to fuck you? That's not my style."

Kaiba turned to face the blond, folded one arm under his head and nestled it into Joey's chest. He marveled at how comfortable and how safe it felt there. At the moment there was no past, and no future, just the present. And he wanted to stay firmly in that present, to shed the past with its frightening memories, and not think about what may or may not happen in the future. He found that despite his earlier trepidation, basking in the warmth of Joey's body, and laying next to him in companionable silence had served to remind him of why they'd come up to his room in the first place. "So tell me, Joey Wheeler, just what is your 'style'?" He asked playfully. He felt a familiar tightening in his groin that signaled the beginnings of an arousal, and with his free hand he lightly traced the contours of the blond's ribs, his slim waist, and angular pelvic ridge.

He felt Joey grin against his scalp. "I highly doubt that you want to hear a play-by-play, but I could show ya, if you really want me to."

Kaiba tilted his head up and gazed at Joey in the dim ambient light. "So show me." Joey drew a sharp breath as Kaiba's hand ghosted his erection.

"Ngh. Keep doin' that and I'm gonna lose my concentration." He pushed Kaiba onto his back, and rained soft kisses on his lips, while his calloused hands grazed the brunet's chest, rubbing lightly over his hardened nipples. Kaiba arched languorously against the friction, and then he gasped as once again Joey's tongue teased one nub as his thumb and forefinger worked over the other. Joey's torment continued until he had Kaiba squirming under his ministrations and then he leisurely kissed down the brunet's sculpted torso, skating his tongue around the slight indent of his belly button before dipping down and nipping over the sensitive skin of his lower abdomen. Kaiba found Joey's actions to be both ticklish and erotic at the same time, and he was hard-pressed to stifle his laughter.

"You have no idea what a beautiful sound it is to hear you laugh," Joey murmured, his hands tracing the contours of the brunet's hips. Kaiba's fingers traced idle patterns across the blond's shoulders as he mentally urged him lower, wanting nothing more than to feel that hot mouth teasing his cock. He almost came as the blond's tongue laved along its crown and then moments later he was encased in that warm sensual heat. He held back thrusting with every fiber of his being, and instead basked in the sensations as he grew closer and closer to climax. But just as he teetered on that precipice, Joey withdrew. "Turn back on your side, love." He flicked on the bedside light.

Kaiba shivered at those huskily spoken words; once again he faced the windows, every nerve alert as he listened for Joey to prepare himself, and waited for the inevitable uncomfortable intrusion. But Joey remained motionless. "What are you waiting for?" Kaiba asked indignantly.

"Be patient, will ya? I just want to look at you. You are so exquisite," Joey marveled, his fingertips tracing the brunet's spine. "Your skin, it's perfect, and I love looking at the way it stretches across your shoulder blades," he added, leaning over to kiss the hollow between.

"If you paint me like this, I will kill you." Kaiba threatened, craning his neck to glare at the blond.

"No worries there," Joey smiled. "This is just for my eyes." He picked up the lotion and rubbed a dollop of it on his fingers and shaft. Kaiba took a deep breath and did his best to relax when Joey's slender digits pressed at his entrance. He slid them in and out in an excruciatingly slow pace, and it wasn't long before the brunet was pushing back wantonly against each thrust. He clutched the pillow to his body, but not before Joey had managed to slip his other hand around to softly caress his chest and tease lightly across his abdomen to his engorged sex.

"God, Joey. Please fuck me already," he gasped, trembling and trying desperately not to come, he wanted to be on the brink, to skate on the edge, to be suspended between the incredible desire that flooded his body at the moment and the inevitable completion he was running headlong toward. Such a delicious torment; those talented fingers stretching him at an insanely slothful pace, driving all coherent thought from his mind. He could get used to being fucked senseless by Joey Wheeler; the blond had easily become the master of his body. Instinctively, he'd been able to find and capitalize on erogenous zones Kaiba had never known existed. He was panting and moaning nonsensically by the time Joey had slid his fingers out of his channel and sheathed himself to the hilt inside the brunet's hot passage.

Joey continued the snail's pace as he thrust deep inside Kaiba; the only indication that he was affected at all by their coupling was the rhythmic grunts that accompanied his masterful strokes. One hand had found purchase on Kaiba's straining erection, lazily caressing it as Kaiba thrust against the friction. The brunet came almost instantaneously, his cries muffled by Joey's fingers gently pressing against his mouth. He suckled them gently in the afterglow, his body now tuned acutely to the minute changes in the pattern of Joey's momentum. The pace suddenly quickened, and his muscles clenched as he felt the blond pump into him. He felt Joey withdraw, and then the blond began to sensually massage Kaiba's back and shoulders, the soft caresses and gentle kneading to his lower back served to relax his tired muscles.

The events of the day finally caught up with Kaiba as Joey reached for the tissues on the bedside table and gently swabbed the cum from his body; he felt his consciousness slipping away, and it barely registered when the blond resumed his position on the bed beside him.

* * *

He woke up alone, and for a brief second, Kaiba panicked that it had all been a dream; another mind fuck that he would have to struggle to accept. But he found that his limbs were stiff and there was a telltale slight burn to his anus when he shifted positions. He glanced over at the chair, and was relieved to see Joey's clothes still carefully laid over its back. He glanced over toward the bathroom, and seeing the door closed and a thin line of light at the bottom of the door, surmised that Joey was occupying it. He lay back on the bed thinking about the way the evening ended until there was an efficient knock on the hotel room door, and he heard a muffled voice announce 'room service.'

"Just a minute," he called out, slipping out of bed. He approached the bathroom door and heard the white noise of the shower, so he slipped in without bothering to knock, admiring the blond's figure through the translucent glass of the shower door before grabbing the terrycloth robe from its hook on the back of the bathroom door.

He ushered the busboy in, and instructed him to set the meal up outside on the terrace. It was a stunning spring day, the perfect weather for flying. He was saddened by that thought; he didn't want to leave like this; he'd have preferred it if he could stay and nurture the beginnings of this new relationship along, but also, for some irrational reason, he thought if he could keep Joey within his sight, he wouldn't lose his grip on reality again.

Joey came up behind him and slipped his arms around him. "Nice view, eh?" Kaiba nodded. "So when's your flight?"

He sighed. "I have to check out by noon, and am heading straight to Kennedy then." Joey's grip tightened. "I don't want to leave, you know that, don't you?"

"It's okay, Seto." Joey replied huskily, and Kaiba thrilled hearing his name from the blond's lips. "I know you'll be back."

***

At first Kaiba had been more than a little put off by Joey's arrogant assertion. But by the time he'd landed in Hawaii for a fuel stopover, he'd decided to call the blond, he reasoned only to see that Joey had made it safely back to his studio, though the reality, he knew, was that he feared that somehow the memory of previous night had just become another mental fabrication, and hearing the blond's voice would reassure him that he'd not imagined their tryst. It had been disconcerting for him when his lover had rushed him off the phone, at the same time promising to call him as soon as he could.

Joey had called him back just as his private jet was readying for take-off, to apologize profusely for cutting him short, although this time it was Seto's turn to end the conversation quickly, as they were ready to taxi for takeoff. At the time he'd wondered if that was any indication that any attempt at a long-distance romance was doomed, but somehow they'd managed to work it out. When Kaiba gotten back into his office from the trip, a flower arrangement that Joey had sent had been waiting for him, with promises that he would keep in touch, and that they did; via telephone, email and IM. He felt blood pooling to his groin when he thought about the provocative nude digital photos that Joey had emailed along from time to time. It seemed that his creativity knew no bounds.

It had been when Wheeler had returned to Japan a guest curator for an exhibit that Kaiba had become convinced that they were meant to be together. The time they'd spent with each other those couple of weeks erased any doubts; it had been as if they'd never been apart, they'd as easily fallen back into a companionship as they had their carnal bed. The Kaiba Corp publicist, as well as the media outlets, had had a field day when their romance had become public-the story had evolved to become one in which Joey had wooed Kaiba with his paintings-and in retrospect, while the brunet had been terribly embarrassed by that take; the romantic overtones had done wonders for the Kaiba Corp bottom line.

He was still haunted by the other memories, but he'd refused to cave and take the meds that the psychiatrist had prescribed him; whatever had happened, the episode seemed to be some kind of glitch that hadn't been reproduced. When he'd arrived home from New York, he'd submitted himself to a battery of tests performed under the direction of his personal physician, and all had produced the same negative results. Nothing could explain the phenomenon that he was experiencing. It disturbed him that he'd never found any evidence of this happening to anyone outside of fairytales, but he was pragmatic enough to realize that some things could not be explained because the human knowledgebase wasn't infinite. Besides, looking back, everything seemed to have worked out for the better. But still, he faced each morning with a certain amount of trepidation until he rolled over to see the familiar mop of blond hair on the pillow beside him, and when they were apart, it had become a ritual that Joey could expect to hear from Kaiba the moment the brunet had woken up. Kaiba had become more acutely aware of how ephemeral life was, and far more appreciative of the things he had. And though he was loath to succumb to superstition, he had silently vowed never again to utter the words 'I wish.'

The cool ocean breeze wafted in through the gauze curtains of his bedroom. He and Mokuba had purchased that summerhouse, and he'd arrived at it only a few days before for a much-needed extended vacation. He would, of course stay in touch with his officers and be privy to any corporate discussions that warranted his input; but since that first night he'd slept with Joey, he'd begun to view his stewardship of Kaiba Corp as an occupation rather than a lifestyle. The company had not seemed to suffer from his shift of positions.

Joey had taken over an old barn on the property and had been painting there most of the summer. To date, he'd refused to let anyone see what he was working on, and Kaiba had been uneasy to press his lover; the last thing he wanted to see was another set of canvasses with his likeness upon them, but he'd steeled himself for that possibility. Joey had promised that when he was finished with the grouping, he would let the brunet see them even before his agent.

He flipped impatiently through some sketches that Joey had left lying around their bedroom. They were of him, Mokuba and the many friends who'd visited over the summer in various candid poses-Joey was lightning fast at capturing gestures-half of the time his subjects were unaware that they were even being watched. The drawings were quite good. He put them down hurriedly as he heard approaching footsteps, and when he turned around, Joey was leaning on the doorjamb, his coveralls dotted with paint, a satisfied smile on his face. "So?" He asked.

"So, what?" Kaiba replied.

"Come with me? I have something I want to show you."

"Paintings?" He asked apprehensively. The blond nodded and Kaiba followed him through the house and out the back door to the old ramshackle clapboard structure that Joey had turned into his studio. The hot summer sun seemed to magnify the smell of oil paint and turpentine that mingled with the sweet aromas from the cottage garden that surrounded the building, and Kaiba couldn't help but feel better as he recognized the now-familiar scent. Joey swung the double-door open and allowed the brunet to enter before him.

Joey had leaned the canvasses against the wall; but instead of the familiar imagery Kaiba was expecting, these new pictures were breathtaking compositions of land and seascapes. Kaiba felt a cold chill creep over him as the memory of that day in the gallery came back to him, not the one of standing among the multiple portraits, but the other memory, the one of the brilliant, epic canvasses.

"This one's for you," Joey said, leading him by the hand to a painting he'd set aside. As Kaiba regarded it, his breath caught in his throat and he felt momentarily dizzy. He'd become quite familiar with the tableau depicted on the canvass since he'd first seen it on the cover of the brochure Mokuba had given him; it was the view from his bedroom window. But what was remarkable was its uncanny similarity to the painting he'd coveted that very same day-in his other memory. He'd never discussed the two distinct sets of memories he had in detail with anyone, not even the specialists he'd gone to for treatment, so it floored him to see the body of work that Joey had just created resembled so closely the works that he'd imagined.

"Seto, are you alright? You look kind of pale." Joey's voice was soft and full of concern. Kaiba ignored him and continued to pore over the painting. There were some differences, he noted with much relief. On the beach in this painting he saw two smudges, humanoid figures, one's head was topped with yellow, the other's, brown, Joey and him. He felt much calmer at that revelation, and as he studied each painting in depth, he began to notice subtle differences from the ones in that other memory, which further soothed his nerves. He glanced over at his anxious lover and pushed the conflicting memories firmly out of his mind.

"They are stunning, Joey," he said, and then he allowed the memory of all those paintings he'd seen that day having been bought by the MoMA to seep through, "I think you will be surprised at how well they are received." He reached out to the blond and as he pulled Joey into an embrace, he added with a smirk, "And I see you still haven't given up painting me."


End file.
